


"Seriously?"

by Tarredion



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Candles, Co-workers, Dan Howell Is A Little Shit, Dan Howell Is Not A YouTuber, Dan Howell Needs A Hug, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Food mention, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Phil Lester Is Not A YouTuber, Snark, Sort Of, Strangers to Lovers, not actually, not angst in the way you'd think, phil is in denial, repeated phrases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23114674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: Prompt: Dan and Phil meet while candle shopping and one of them can't help but comment on how obnoxious/boring/etc the scents the other one is picking out are-the time Phil met a totally-not-handsome stranger and only sort-of wished they'd never meet again. Tough luck?
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	"Seriously?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



> It really won't go how you think ;)

Phil views the selection of sweet candle scents on the shelf before him.

There’s every brand imaginable stocked up, candles in all shapes and sizes. The whole wall is dedicated to them, all three meters of it, and quite a few times he’s stopped his eyes upon hilarious puns and questionable shapes. He won’t deny some have made him giggle. 

The door dings, and his gaze flicks towards it on impulse. At first it seems ordinary, but then the person that’s just entered lifts their hood, exposing a damp head covered in soft curls, matched with a set of sweetly chocolatey eyes. Despite his obnoxiously black, pretentiously classy clothes, he is rather beautiful.

More so than the men on Insta Phil typically oogles on his Friday nights, when he’s not out shopping. This guy isn’t semi-fuckable-in-the-right-light-and-weather, but rather fits the archetype of Phil’s dream guy. Which isn’t particularly great when he’s a stranger with just a face, and a complete distraction. 

He decides to not pay him any attention. Stalking is not something he’d like to put on the list of ‘weird Phil habits’.

The Jo Malone London-wood-sage candle is shortly in his hand, but he shakes his head and puts it back almost as fast, with little hesitation. The price is certainly not worth the product. Nor the other way around.

His eyes glide across the shelves again, stopping temporarily on the handsome man. He’s just a couple of feet away with his back turned, and so, from his crouched angle on the floor, Phil gets ass for days. 

_ Get a grip, Phil!  _ he scolds himself, cursing himself out and wishing the flush of his face isn’t visible on his pale skin.  _ You’re here to view the merchandise, not the assets.  _

He does have a rather cute, plump ass though..

Fingers dancing across the labels, Phil shuffles awkwardly a few feet to his right again. 

Only a few minutes later he’s drawn back to a candle he set his eyes on before, and many more times when he’s been in this shop. The colourful packaging and the homely, fun scent is certainly Phil-style, curved rainbow lettering spelling out  _ Birthday cake _ .

Each day of the year can now remind him of birthday celebrations and family. 

He thinks it’ll surely fit nicely on his cabinet, bright colours to liven up his still bare walls, and he smiles to himself.

“That’s the scent you’re interested in purchasing? Seriously?” Phil looks up, and finds himself face to face with the handsome man. The unconventional zipper on the side of his turtleneck glimmers in the light, and Phil has to try his very hardest to avert his eyes. Whatever it is his mind wants to do with it, it’s not relevant.

“Isn’t that like  _ super average _ and childish..” he continues, and suddenly he’s not so handsome to Phil anymore. 

Anyone with such a tendency to demean others’ interests to their face doesn’t deserve to have their name on the list of attractive people. Even if he doesn’t know his name. 

“It’s a present for my son.” Phil retorts, feeling a bit of anger flare up like a flame within his chest. Surprisingly it’s not accompanied by shame, even if he doesn’t typically like to lie. He’s not sure why he even feels the need to lie to a stranger, right now. “Birthday cake is his favourite scent.”

The previously-very-handsome man simply shrugs, his curls bouncing upon his not-at-all-pretty head. “It’ll still be burning in your home, won’t it.” It’s not a question, but rather a rude remark.

Phil opens his mouth to respond, eyes locked with the super-not-sexy, non-enticing brown orbs upon his tan face.

“Phil?” a female voice pipes up, interrupting him. The red hair of Cornelia, his brother’s girlfriend, peeks from behind a different shelf, her short stature burying her within the cluttered shop.

With a swift and silent apology, not for his comments but for holding Phil up, sadly enough -an apology would really improve his rep-, the guy storms off through the store, coming to rest at an aisle near the front. 

Phil tries his best to not look his way when he swivels on the spot, making his way to the cash register with the same candle in his grip. Without much internal complaint he pays for it, almost scoffing at the surely gaping face of the mysterious, rude, so-not-cute stranger. He knows he’s watching him pay for it, despite what he’d said about his choice and fake excuse, and so he feels slightly smug knowing he has defied another prick. 

“Who was that?” Cornelia asks once he collects the change, an eyebrow quirking as he sighs. He shakes his head to stop her from pressing the issue, within eyesight and earshot of the person that’s caused his dip in mood.

“Just.. long day.” he mumbles with an averted gaze, and shortly they’re out in the cold, the wind biting at his hands and tugging on his coat. He wraps it tighter around himself, and then they walk home, light bags in hand, to where Martyn hopefully awaits with a warm box of Dominos. 

If he hasn’t forgotten to order the takeaway, again. 

-

When he closes the door behind his brother and Cornelia, after getting a kiss on the cheek and worried glance sent his way between their excited but reluctant chatter, the silence in his apartment hits full force.

The silence and lack-of-people creeps upon him, lurking on his shoulder at every turn. It’s an unusual feeling, for an introvert.

Despite the colourful walls in the living room, and the posters hung all around, there’s something missing in there. He checks each corner and window for an intruder, and every shelf for something missing. He can finally breathe a sigh of relief when he finds nothing is out of the ordinary. 

Despite the slight churning in his gut at the memory of his face, Phil can’t help but to think of the man in the shop again. His chocolate curls, his smooth and round cheeks, his tall, equal stature. 

Rather attractive qualities, had he just had a better personality and attitude.

Yet he closes his eyes for even a second, and suddenly he’s just standing there, dressed in a button-up this time. Pants still just as tight.  _ Fever dream _ , he thinks, one hand clasping the wall as he stumbles down the hallway.  _ Surely _ . 

Then dream-Phil begins to unbutton said shirt, not-at-all-sexy stranger blinking up at him with a shit-eating grin. A rather attractive one at that.

Dream-Phil’s hands smother along the tanlines of his skin, the curves and bumps and chubbiness on and beneath the skin welcoming his palms with a sense of familiarity. A devotion and affection trickle from the creases along his fingers, that run up and down through the pale surface. 

Half-blind and clamming, and uncontrollable desire boiling in his gut, Phil makes it through the dark doorway to his room just as their bodies collide.

The curly-haired man giggles into his mouth, kissing with such urgency that real-Phil stumbles backwards into his room. 

Collapsing upon his sheets, Phil tries his best to push away the thoughts, but to no avail. He falls asleep in a pool of sweat and a phantom set of limbs tangled with his own. And a wish on his tongue; to never meet the stranger again, if this is the effect he has on him.

That’s a partial lie- and he knows.

-

The following Monday, Phil makes his way down into the tube unusually late. He rushes through the station, barely catching the latest train, as a result of having forgotten that he’s starting a new job with a slightly earlier workday. Though he still decided to keep his schedule on an evening shift.

He won’t admit that he’d gotten distracted by a certain set of curls, considering such a  _ rude _ man wouldn’t deserve to occupy his mind or time like that. Even though he wouldn’t qualify as a complete asshole to Phil..

The small sense of dread he’d felt during his interview a couple of weeks prior returns as he approaches the building, steel and glass towering ominously above him. The sun is setting behind it, and so all but the strips of light dancing across the rim is descended into shadows and darkness.

Most of the hallways inside are deserted. Occasionally Phil approaches some stragglers making their way out, greeting them with only a wave or a nod when he sees them yawn audibly. He makes it to the elevators in his wing in less than five minutes because of it. 

The 3rd floor is unsurprisingly dark, and empty except for him, which he sees as soon as he steps off the lift. 

To tell the truth, Phil likes his night shifts better that way, with peace, quiet, and an absolute 0% chance of company. Like with 0% chance of rain on a sunny picnic day, he’s unlikely to be disturbed.

_ Save for the flickering monitor at the other end of the hall, _ Phil thinks begrudgingly, his eyebrows furrowing while he puts his own rucksack down. He wasn’t aware anyone else was doing the night shift on his floor, so unless someone's just forgotten to turn their computer off…

The station is abandoned once he reaches it, though it doesn’t look like the owner has left for the day -night- if the setup and open, emptied bag on the desk is any sign.

Phil’s just about to turn and leave, only a mildly interested in all the random knick knacks, when a fist-size object, still in its wrappings, catches his eye. It stands seemingly untouched, and surely newly bought, to the left of the monitor. It’s almost hidden from view.

Once it’s in his hand, Phil knows exactly why it seemed familiar to him. It’s a birthday cake scented candle, of the same brand and size as the one he bought. Coincidentally enough, according to the receipt beneath the package, it was purchased from the same store and on the same day as he did. By a certain  _ Daniel Howell _ .

Suddenly, Phil realizes it might not be too bad to get to know his coworkers. Not if they buy the same scented candles, go to the same stores, surely live in his area, prefer the night shift, and.. own bags covered in Nintendo pins?

No, getting to know his coworkers really couldn’t be so bad, at all.

The sound of footsteps interrupts his train of thought, and so, just going to turn and leave, Phil swivels on the spot. Unfortunately for the person he collides with, he is rather clumsy and has zero coordination. 

There’s a loud commotion and a jumble of swearwords before both of them can stand straight again.

The first thought that passes Phil’s mind is that his coworker has thick but fit thighs, and that he wouldn’t mind gazing at them all day. His second thought involves the tightness of his shirt, because surely, surely, he got the wrong size.

“Seriously? Can you please watch out next time?” 

Then he hears him speak, and his third thought becomes, despite how much softer, quieter, and genuine he sounds;  _ oh shit, I know him. _

The guy continues to speak despite Phil’s internal realization. “Not only am I carrying a literal hot drink, as is expected in an office, but you also happen to be in my-  _ oh.” _

Daniel’s mouth has fallen open, his pretty, pink, kissable - _ Phil please don’t forget this guy is a jerk _ \- lips forming an o. The hazel brown of his wide-blown eyes is visible even in the darkness, and as they glance over Phil’s body there’s a certain worry in them, a surprise to go along with it.

And yet it’s heavy, something Phil doesn't even squirm beneath. It’s a gaze he’d like to - _ oh for christ's sake Phil _ \- jut his hips out and lick his lips for. Darken, gravel, rasp his voice beneath.

“Oh.” he repeats, and Phil almost grimaces, but for whatever reason he doesn’t want to be that much of a prick to the totally-not-super-hot stranger. A stranger -or rather a Daniel- who’s not so much of a stranger anymore, and who seems more meek than not right now.

“Yeah, oh.” he says instead, barely resisting an eyeroll but keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Then his eyes follow Daniel’s down to the candle still in his grip, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes slightly once their gazes fly up again to meet. A small, careful, almost snide smirk tugs on the edge of his lips. “Thought you said it was super average and childish?” he asks, holding it up for both of them to see.

He doesn’t miss the way guilt passes across Daniel’s rather handsome features, especially not considering he visibly frowns.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Apology accepted.” His coworker only glances away again.

One foot crossing the other, he makes a move for the exit of the cubicle. He wants out of here, and fast, before he actually catches feelings. Though their hands graze as he squeezes through the exit, and his heart jumps up into his throat. 

“I, uh, don’t actually have a child.” Phil utters unsteadily, stopping by his side, unable to control his limbs and keep on walking. “That bit was.. a lie.”

“Figured.” Daniel mumbles, but his head flicks upwards. “Name’s Dan. And you’re still holding the candle.”

_ Damn the candle _ \- Dan’s eyes are deep and broody, and yet they’re swirling with warmth. Even in the bleak light from the monitor, an uneven hazel ring blazes around his pupil, dancing with the strings of Phil’s heart. 

If he found him attractive before, now that word has completely lost its meaning. In all context. Dan Howell’s divine, and no mortal man can ever meet him, be his match, and never has been able to. All Phil can hope is that he can be his equal high above the clouds.

Hope. 

A warm hand brushes the side of his cheek. The thumb doesn’t press down, but the presence is still heavy as a stone upon his cheekbone, a weight filled with longing and lust… and hope. He’s certain he looks pathetic, lost in his own thoughts and Dan’s wonderful eyes. Despite it, he wishes himself here forever.

“You good? Phil?”

Okay, not  _ just _ pathetic.

“Yeah.”

“You look a little flushed, that’s all-”

Phil knows Dan continues to talk. His raised, concerned voice is a buzzing in the back of his mind, and he can see his lips moving. But his focus stays elsewhere. On their colour and the chapped, scuffed edge almost falling off the curve, instead of on his words. How kissable they seem, even in the lack of light.

“-and that may be symptoms of a fever-” 

His one curl falls upon his forehead, and he gets it up with a pucker and a gust of wind. He glances away, and the erratic movement of his eyes flicker from the monitor down to Phil’s  _ lips _ .

He’s so close now, that it can’t possibly be a trick of the non-existent light.

“ _ What are you doing _ , Phil?” __

Christ, Dan is tall. Taller than him, in fact, by almost a full inch. And it drives him insane, how he glances down as his eyelids slowly sink closed, eyelashes fluttering. How much closer his lips are than anyone else’s he’s ever kissed.

Being so close, Phil can see each freckle on Dan’s face, darker shadows on his tan skin mapping out a constellation on his chubby cheeks.

Typically, Phil would regard himself as bold, and straightforward. Not under Dan’s gaze, however.

And with the intensity that Dan seizes his lips.. he sure isn’t the only one that feels like what began as animosity has blossomed into something bigger. Something more. A beginning. Hope, and adoration.

-

Sunlight tickles the top of Dan’s head, his parted lips sighing at the feel of warmth and the sight of light. Phil finds an equal ray enter his slow heart, and he turns away from the blinds, returning to crawl beneath the covers on impulse. If he could stay beneath them all day, he would.

Resting his head upon Dan’s smooth, hairless torso, he cradles the goodness of life in his arms. “It’s two o’clock, if you want to have  _ breakfast _ you’ll have to get up.”

“Don’ wanna move.”

Phil finds himself chuckling as Dan makes groggy grabby hands at him, reaching out for his shuffling body. “Don’t be like that, now.” he says, and then throws the covers off the bed. “We still have work at night, tonight..”

Dan groans, pushing his face into the green and blue pillow. His exposed, almost completely naked body explodes in goosebumps as it collides with the cold air. “Fineee.” he mumbles. “But only for kisses…”

“You’d like to be payed? In my house?”

“Hmm..”

Mouth connecting to his shoulder first, Phil places a total of fifteen wet kisses along the length of his side and back. Dan tingles and squirms beneath him, burst into giggles. When he moves away again, Dan turns his face up, his curls a sweaty mess and his eyes glazed.

“That enough?” Phil asks, a honey-sweet grin splitting his face. Dan’s matches his.

“Seriously? I think you’ll have to do that for an eternity before I’m satisfied.”

“Will do.” And then he’s enveloped, wide palms tracing the edges of his shoulder blades with a certain care that engrains itself deep into his skin. “As long as it’s just me.”

“Figured.” Dan laughs, and from that point onwards they are equals. Very-cute enamoured soulmates, not not-so-sexy rude strangers. Well, he’ll have it no other way.

-

_ “Care to go out candle shopping today?” _

_ “What, seriously? Just so you can cram the rooms with another obnoxious scent as soon as I move in!? Not a chance, Phil.” _

_ “Didn't think so, love… but a guy can always try.” _

_ “Didn’ tink so luv-” _

_ “I don’t sound like that.” _

_ “You do, it’s northern, you spork!” _

_ “Love you, too.” _

_ “Luv yeh, too. Spork.” _

_ “Ugh.” _

_ “That’s my line, Phil. I’m the one who’s done with all your bullshit. I’m-”  _

_ “Impossible, that is what you are..” _

_ “Seriously-”  _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
